


At the Hands of a Hobbit

by fae_of_the_rose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bottom!Thorin, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fae_of_the_rose/pseuds/fae_of_the_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's funny, Bilbo thinks. There are a hundred thousand Dwarves in the Mountain and not a single one knows the truth. Thorin may be King Under the Mountain, but even the Mountain has its weaknesses. </p><p>That this Mountain is weak to a Hobbit means nothing, really. And yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Hands of a Hobbit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avelera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/gifts).



> Alternate title: Yes, Bilbo
> 
> So the lovely and estimable [Avelera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera) has started this Thing on Tumblr. This thing happens to involve Thorin being weak to Bilbo giving him orders and praising him. 
> 
> So I wrote a thing.
> 
> This fic is only allowed to be hosted on either AO3 or my tumblr, fae_of_the_rose. If you find it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

It’s strange, Bilbo thinks as he and Thorin retreat from the public spaces of Erebor for the day, Dwarves bowing and murmuring “Your Majesty, Lord Bilbo” as they pass. There are a hundred thousand Dwarves in the Mountain and not a one of them knows the truth.

(Well, the Company does, being the Company, but he knows for a fact that Kíli is too busy with his Elf to care and Fíli is actively ignoring it. So. They don’t really count, do they?)

As they approach the private wings of the Mountain, Thorin’s posture shifts from the tall, proud King Thorin II Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain and Lord of Erebor, to simply Thorin, Bilbo’s husband. His shoulders drop and he hands his crown off to the servant waiting for them before resting his head on Bilbo’s as they walk. Bilbo, for his part, moves his hand from Thorin’s arm to his back, guiding him.

“You were great today, love,” he murmurs. Thorin makes a soft noise and perhaps it’s a bit sooner than normal, but it was a rough day for Thorin. He had to deal with the Elves. “Though I’m not sure Thranduil’s emissary was impressed.”

“Is he ever?” Thorin asks and, well, Bilbo has to agree there. He shrugs, tracing lines on Thorin’s back.

“Fair enough. Still, I think you’ll get more headway with him tomorrow, and if not then you’ll just have to let me handle it. I’ll get it done, don’t you worry.” Thorin nods. “Now, we eat and then you, O King, are going to relax.” Thorin hesitates, so Bilbo continues. “You’re going to relax, yes?”

As always, that phrase flips a switch in Thorin; Bilbo can almost see it go from “Thorin” to whatever it was Thorin called himself once Bilbo established control. “Yes, Bilbo,” he murmurs.

It had taken time to get to this point. Just after the Battle, when everything was fragile and precious, Thorin had confessed to Bilbo and Bilbo had confessed in return and that was that until Thorin was healed and Erebor’s restorations were underway. Bilbo still remembers their first night together after that, the way Thorin was so scared when he asked Bilbo to join him in bed and how, many weeks later, Bilbo learned that Thorin was afraid of hurting him. Thorin was afraid of losing himself and trying to possess Bilbo.

So Bilbo possessed. 

At least, that was how Thorin phrased it the one time Bilbo asked why he liked this arrangement. “If I am yours,” he said, “then I can’t take. I’m...I’m safe. You’re safe. And--” Bilbo remembers that he turned a furious red here “--I would be lying if I said the thought was...unattractive.”

(And that was how Bilbo Baggins learned that Dwarves had an entire genre of romance stories and _sex manuals_ dedicated to these sorts of relationships. He hadn’t even known you could _write_ sex manuals. And it had been _Ori_ who gave him the translations and oh, that doesn’t bear thinking about.)

But that was some time ago. Now, years later, Bilbo and Thorin have an Arrangement and Bilbo quite likes it. For one, it ensures that Thorin eats and takes care of himself when his responsibilities are weighing him down too much. For another, well. The sex _is_ rather good, when they have it. They don’t always. But when they do.

Thorin presses a kiss to Bilbo’s temple, burying his nose in his hair as Bilbo guides them to their quarters. Dinner is waiting for them, something hot and probably Dwarvish. “Go ahead and change,” Bilbo orders, stepping away from Thorin. “You don’t need to be in that heavy, uncomfortable mess any longer. Just your trousers and a tunic, yes?”

“Yes, Bilbo.” And even now there’s that rush of pride and power at seeing Thorin Oakenshield obey a Hobbit without so much as blinking. Thorin trusts him this much. How can he not love that? How can he not want to earn and keep that trust?

Dinner is a quiet affair. Thorin is quick to change and quick to return to Bilbo, holding him close as Bilbo gives in and sits in Thorin’s lap as they eat this one time. Once the plates are set aside for the maids in the morning, Bilbo takes Thorin’s hands and leads him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

Bilbo guides Thorin to their bed and sits down on the edge. He gestures to Thorin. “Kneel, love.” He does, of course, looking straight ahead. Bilbo has told him a thousand times that he doesn’t like seeing him hang his head and so he doesn’t even though Bilbo imagines he wants to. Thorin would debase himself completely if Bilbo let him. So he doesn’t.

“I meant it, you know.” Bilbo reaches out and begins to undo Thorin’s braids. Thorin’s breath hitches. “You were wonderful today. Hardly lost your temper at all, and you even smiled at Tauriel!” He chuckles. “Never thought I’d see the day, but I have. I’m proud of you, Thorin.”

Thorin shifts, glancing away from whatever point on Bilbo’s shirt he’d been staring at. Ah. “Look at me, Thorin. At me. Look at my face.” Thorin obeys; Bilbo cups his cheek. “I am proud of you and am going to reward you, yes?”

“...yes, Bilbo.” Thorin’s eyes fall, though they snap back to his face quickly enough. It’s a habit Bilbo can’t break him of. Oh well.

“Good. Now, sit still and let me fix your hair. Then, maybe, we can do something else if you’d like.” Thorin tenses at that and that’s all Bilbo needs to tell that yes, he would very much like “something else”. Good. He knows how to proceed, then.

Bilbo lets his hand fall from Thorin’s face and returns to his task of unbraiding and brushing. This time, though, he massages Thorin’s scalp as he goes. He doesn’t even try to hide his smile when Thorin moans softly and leans into Bilbo’s hands. It’s always been a weak spot, his scalp, and Bilbo is not ashamed to admit he’s abused this knowledge outside the bedroom. It’s just so much simpler to tug lightly on a braid and shut Thorin up before he makes an ass of himself than to try and clean up the aftermath sometimes.

By the time Bilbo is done, Thorin is shaking ever so slightly and completely at Bilbo’s mercy. His eyes are half-shut, though his hands aren’t clenched which is a good sign. An even better sign is the slight bulge in his trousers, though Bilbo pretends he doesn’t see it. It just embarasses Thorin if he points it out. Instead, he reaches down for Thorin’s hands. The king is quick to crawl onto the bed with Bilbo, nuzzling at his neck while Bilbo pets his hair.

“I wish I had your hair, Thorin,” he murmurs. “It’s so soft and lovely, much easier to manage than my mop of curls, especially now that it’s so long.” Thorin hums. “Yes, yes, I grew it out for you. It’s almost long enough to braid.” Thorin hums again, pressing closer to Bilbo. Bilbo shakes his head however and Thorin moves away. “Good. Have you had a bath at all today?” He doesn’t wait for the answer. “I don’t think so. Well, that can wait.”

Bilbo keeps up this idle chatter while petting Thorin’s hair, talking about this dish Bombur made or that joke Bofur told or his suspicions about who Fili was interested in. Thorin loves his voice and says it relaxes him, so Bilbo spends a lot of time just talking to him, regardless of what they’re doing. Dinner, bathing, even while Thorin is working on paperwork. If Bilbo thought Thorin needed it, he would talk at him for hours.

Eventually, he moves from petting Thorin’s hair to running his hand down Thorin’s back and around to the bulge in his trousers. Thorin twitches, but only barely. Before, when they first started this, he would have stopped Bilbo before he’d gotten the first few braids out, unable to take it the softness and the lack of control. They never got this far. 

Now he’s perfectly content to let Bilbo tease him a little, shifting into his hand and making a soft noise of pleasure.

“You can move, Thorin,” Bilbo declares. “I think you’ve earned it, yes?”

“Y-yes, Bilbo.” Still, Thorin doesn’t move. He just rests his hands on Bilbo’s waist. 

Bilbo leans up and kisses right beneath Thorin’s ear before nipping ever-so-softly at the skin there and enjoying the gasp from his husband. “I love that sound,” he murmurs as he nips again. “I love your voice. You have such a beautiful voice, Thorin. It drives me insane, especially in meetings when you’re not quite yelling but are obviously mad. That low rumble…” Bilbo sighs and slides his hand down Thorin’s trousers to run his fingers over his growing hardness. “You know that, don’t you? You use that tone on purpose, yes?”

Thorin nods. “Yes, Bilbo,” he replies, pitching his voice down to that tone and oh, he’s a brat sometimes, he really is. But that’s why Bilbo loves him. He sighs again and presses closer to Thorin.

“Thought as much. You’re just as intelligent as you are lovely, after all.” Bilbo rocks against Thorin’s thigh. Thorin presses into Bilbo’s hand. “Why, I bet you know exactly what I’m wanting right now.” The hands on Bilbo’s waist slide underneath his tunic and Bilbo nods. “Perfect, Thorin. You’re perfect.” 

Bilbo pulls away to let Thorin undress him, thankful in this one instance that Dwarven fashion was so much simpler than Hobbitish styles. No braces or waistcoats here, just a belt and a tunic and then Bilbo was left in his trousers. He stops Thorin before he can get those off however, instead gently pushing him down on the bed and straddling his thighs. Thorin lets him, watching him with utter adoration.

“Remember when I had to tie you down in order to do this?” Bilbo asks as he works Thorin’s tunic off and his trousers open. The two of them work together to get the trousers off; Bilbo wastes no time in rocking their hips together. He knows Thorin likes this, having Bilbo half-dressed on top of him while Thorin is laid bare.“You fought me so much on it, like you didn’t believe I could do it. You wanted it, but you had to be shown I knew what I was doing.” Thorin’s hands grip the sheets tightly as Bilbo grinds against him. “And now look at us, love.”

Thorin lets out a soft, almost desperate noise and Bilbo quickly leans down to kiss him. “Are you ready for me, Thorin? Can I ride you?” he asks, lips hovering close enough to kiss.

He nods. “Yes, Bilbo.”

Bilbo pulls away and moves to get their vial of bedroom oil as he tugs his trousers off. He’s only about half hard, however, and that just won’t do. Bilbo looks to Thorin, who is still watching him. “Can you do me a favor, love?” he asks even though he doesn’t have to. Thorin nods. Bilbo just gestures to his cock. 

That’s all it takes for Thorin to reach out and pull Bilbo back, lying down so all Bilbo has to do is lean forward and Thorin can take him in his mouth. This is one of Thorin’s favorite positions, and Bilbo doesn’t mind it either, mostly because Thorin is _fantastic_ with his mouth. Bilbo grips the footboard of the bed tightly, moaning as Thorin starts to work him. He doesn’t even bother to control the urge to thrust too much, just enough so he doesn’t choke Thorin.

As easy as it would be to just let Thorin suck him off like this, just let Thorin please him, Bilbo wants something more. Next time, maybe. For now, Bilbo reluctantly pulls away from Thorin, pushing him back down when he tries to follow. Thorin obeys the silent order and watches as Bilbo grabs the vial of oil and opens it. They’re both aching now and he doesn’t want to wait long. Bilbo thankful that he’s done this enough times that it’s the work of a moment to start stretching himself.

“Not as good as when it’s you,” he mutters to Thorin who can’t look away. “You really are perfect for me, Thorin. In-in everything.”

Thorin groans, a painful sort of groan that sends jolts down Bilbo’s spine even as he works himself even more. It’s killing Thorin to be unable to touch himself or touch Bilbo but he won’t. Bilbo didn’t say he could, and Bilbo is always right.

Soon, Bilbo is pulling Thorin closer, guiding him so they’re against the headboard and Bilbo is in Thorin’s lap. “Touch me, Thorin,” Bilbo murmurs, groaning as he lowers himself onto Thorin’s cock. “You know I want you to fuck me, yes?”

Thorin shudders before taking Bilbo’s hips and pulling him closer. “Yes, Bilbo,” he growls, low and dark. It sends a shiver down Bilbo’s spine and he rocks against Thorin, gasping. Thorin just whimpers.

“Louder, Thorin. You know you can be loud, yes?”

“Yes, Bilbo.”

“And you can fuck me as hard as you want, yes?” It’s dangerous sometimes, letting Thorin have that much control, but Bilbo _wants_ that. The only way to get it was to order Thorin.

Thorin hesitates before nodding. “Yes, Bilbo.”

Then there’s no more breath or time for words as the move together. Thorin doesn’t hold back, moaning and gasping for Bilbo, who fucks himself on Thorin’s cock as hard as he can when Thorin doesn’t move fast enough for him. He tangles his hands in Thorin’s hair, tugging and keeping him close. It’s hot and fast and he loves this Dwarf. He loves this Dwarf so much.

Bilbo comes with a cry, pulling Thorin into a kiss to muffle it. Thorin doesn’t last much longer and he grips Bilbo almost painfully tight. They fall back onto the pillows together, sharing lazy kisses and soft words.

“Better, love?” Bilbo asks when they’ve recovered enough for words

Thorin just nods, hissing as Bilbo pulls off of him. “Mm. You know I am.” He smiles at Bilbo, lazy and content, though it falls quickly as he looks Bilbo over. He runs his hands over where he’d gripped Bilbo’s hips. Bilbo hisses, flinching and looking down to see ten bruises, five on either hip. Ah. “I hurt you.” Anger and disappointment begin to cloud Thorin’s face. Bilbo reaches up to kiss him.

“None of that now,” he murmurs. “I asked for it. You know I don’t mind it when we’re a little rough, Thorin. If it’s bothering you that much, you can make it up to me later, yes?”

He takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes and nodding. Bilbo’s never been able to understand what it is about that phrase, that rhetorical question that forces Thorin to relax but it does. “Yes, Bilbo.” Thorin's face clears again and Bilbo smiles.

“Good. But, that can be later.” He yawns and curls up on Thorin’s chest who pulls him closer. “After our bath, or in the morning perhaps. I know you don’t have anything to do tomorrow.”

“Yes, Bilbo.”


End file.
